


Shuttles and Soup

by Saraste



Series: Nwalin Week 2016 fics [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Breastfeeding, Domesticity, Fluff, Looms, M/M, Nwalin Week, Post-Mpreg, Ri Family Feels, Weaving, baby blues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nori finds that he can maybe be someone else than just a thief again. He <i>was</i> someone else once before. Maybe he can be so again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shuttles and Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Stand-alone sequel to my two previous nwalin week fics. 
> 
> I have personally only woven one thing in my life, which was a rug, and which was not made with a vertical loom but with a free standing loom. I hope I got the terms right, as I even have trouble with them in Finnish.
> 
> Unbeta'd.
> 
> The idea of the Ri family as weavers might have been stolen from some fics I've read. I just really like the idea.

Nori eyes the new loom critically, trying to find fault in it.

  


It's a vertical loom, complete with a selection of shuttles currently set on the side, currently set down in a corner of his and Dwalin's sitting room, near a window. The window itself looks down into the lands beyond the Mountain, the room itself still feeling a bit strange, _ostentatious_ , too much for someone who had lived poor for most of his life.

  


His son slumbers in his sling against Nori's back as he further inspects the loom. It's a gift from Dwalin and Nori wants to refuse it on principle. If he had wanted a loom he could have gotten himself a loom. Yet… Maybe having something to do with his hands will still their want to wander into other people's pockets. Not that he strays far from the hearth these days. The thought makes him shudder even as he tries to suppress the feeling of not belonging.

  


Nori's eyes stray to the selection of yarns in the big basket set on the floor beside the loom: vivid reds and blue's, earthy greens and browns… even Durin blue, should he want to use it in his work. His hand reaches for a russet… he'd almost always used russet, as a sort of signature, if not in the actual general pattern itself, then on the first few or last few picks. He smiles. Even after all this time, his brother's remembered. For it had not been Dwalin who had chosen the yarns, he is sure.

  


'What will you weave? Ori asks, startling him.

  


Nori curses, he's too prone to idling, losing himself in thought, these days. Thankfully he doesn't instinctually go for a blade, even when he has one on his person. Always, always ready to defend his pebble, his family, stick it into where it would hurt. Not that he _ever_ had, or would, with his siblings. Not even his worst days he had never hurt his siblings. Well, apart from words, words he could pattern into layered insults, stinging all the more  when they found their power from familiarity, of poking where it hurt the most. But _never_ with Ori, their sweet baby brother, to whom even Dori never had a sharp word. 

  


The wee pebble snuffles against his back, shifting in sleep,  making Nori idle again . Nori knows that he should sleep when the pebble does, but… He can't always when Dwalin isn't home.

  


Their bed is too high, what if the pebble should wake when Nori himself slept, and fell off? Hurt himself? It's too much to even consider.  He'd already failed, once. Never again. He couldn't sleep. Not when he was alone with the pebble.  Not that he isn't alone now, with Ori here, but he couldn't sleep and leave his brother with the babe, no matter how stretched thin he  might  fe el .

  


'I don't know,' Nori confesses after the silence  has stretched on too long. Yet his fingers crave for the familiarity of it all, a pattern forming as he  picks layer upon layer ,  the swish of the shuttle, the thump of the reed as he battens it in , singing softly under his breath as he wove. 

  


It's his craft, if thieving doesn't count. It shouldn't now, now he's  _respectable_ . Now he's got Dwalin and their son. Now he's braided and beaded. Now that he has a place.  Home, hearth and  soul , hadn't he told Dwalin that? Hadn't he believed it?

  


'Maybe you should start with something simple, after so long?' Ori suggests.  Nori pretends he doesn't hear the worry in his tone.  Ori should really worry over something else besides Nori.

  


Nori hasn't weaved since Ered Luin. That he wants to now is… 

  


Maybe a way to remind himself that thieving always isn't, wasn't,  _hadn't been_ , who he was.  Is. He ha d been someone else besides Nori the thief, once. Maybe he can be again. Perhaps already  _is_ but is unwilling to admit it to himself. 

  


'Yes,' he finally says, grasping the russet yarn in his fingers.

  


Together, they cast on the warp, after choosing a pattern and colours, and Nori loses himself into the familiar repetitive motions which feel easy as breathing, even after so long. He's so intent that he misses Ori's delighted, somewhat sad, smile, before his brother leaves him to it.

  


*

  


'Like your gift, do you?' Dwalin's voice floats into Nori's ears.

  


He looks up, giving Dwalin a sort of wide smile which had been absent from his face all too often lately. He examines his finished work with satisfaction, turning away from Dwalin to glance it over, then looks back at Dwalin. 'I really do.' The weight of the shuttle in his hand feels better than any knife, right now.

  


'Good,' Dwalin rumbles. He has a smile on his own face, happy because Nori is.

  


He walks to Nori, while Nori ponders whether he should continue weaving or not. Yet, Dwalin is home now and it would keep, as Nori had finished with his pick. He puts down his shuttle and proceeds to get up from his cross-legged position.

  


'Ori brought soup earlier. Have you eaten? I can heat some up for you, now.'

  


He gets up as he speaks, fully cognisant over how his muscles protested after having been in one position for so long. His lower back is all in knots. Dwalin is now beside him, taking hold of him, drawing him into a kiss.

  


'I'll heat it, Nori,' Dwalin murmurs into his hair as he engulfs both of them in an embrace. 'You go sit down.'

  


Nori flushes. He feels like Dwalin is still walking on egg-shells around him. But at the same time he's happy that Dwalin is _home_. The days often feel so very long, especially when he's alone. His siblings help, visiting when they can, spending time with him and either of them bringing food along. Nori prefers when it's from Dori, as Ori's efforts, while cooked with love, are often only so-so cooked with skill.

  


He _is_ grateful for it but it sometimes feels like cosseting. He could go out and mingle. He just doesn't… want to. Not after…

  


The pebble is starting to fuss, as Nori follows Dwalin into the kitchen, making unhappy noises which will soon enough be crying. Nori might just as well sit down, as Dwalin is trying to get him to do. A quick check proves that the pebble isn't in need for a change and the grabby wee hands at his tunic, coupled with the hunger-cry, tell him clear as anything what his son wants. Once in the kitchen Nori sits down properly and in a moment the pebble has latched on easy as ever.

  


'Did you eat with Ori?' Dwalin asks, having moved the pot over the fire to heat it.

  


'Yes, yes,' Nori fusses as he settles his son better. He's sure that Dwalin is smiling at him. He doesn't want to raise his head and look. Too worn. And he's so bad at lying to Dwalin when Dwalin can see his eyes. His tone had been wrong.

  


'I believe you,' Dwalin says even when he sounds like he doesn't, as he moves through the practised motions of re-heating the soup. They eat so much food that is re-heated, now. Nori feels a pang in his chest.

  


Nori looks at Dwalin's strong back, letting the act of nursing soothe himself. His hands are happy for the weight of their pebble in them.

  


The spicy scent of the soup slowly starts to fill the kitchen. _Their kitchen._ Nori's chair is within sight of Dwalin and he gets to idle, to focus on their son without worry, as Dwalin cooks.

  


And he accepts the bowl Dwalin presses on him, not too much later, without fuss.

  


  



End file.
